“I was frightened then,” she declared. "Who's there?" cried Rachel. “Thank you. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. But I liked the things you said here.
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